Jean
by 07654
Summary: Really angsty and sad. I'm sorry.


This is so sad why am I doing this to myself? Anyway i guess i love writing angst I hope you enjoy!

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Jean: God has given.

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When Mary sees the blonde boy at the castle gate, dirty face pressed up to the port cullis and demanding the guards let him in, she does not stir from her seat at the window. When she sees Lola cradling her new born son, her son with milky skin and sky blue eyes and just the beginning of white blonde curls, she does not feel the resentment, the pain that she thought she would. When Francis comes banging on the door of her old chambers, begging her to let him in, hurling accusations and sobbing tearful apologies, she doesn't move from her desk. When they are required to dance she keeps her eyes fixed on his shoulder and when they eat she looks anywhere but towards him. His frantic whispers become white noise to her closed ears. She begins taking her subjects alone and soon finds making decisions much easier with out the marital issues that always used to follow. He'd left for a month and in that time she'd become more efficient and productive yet more brutal, losing all compassion. She lead with her head, not her heart. She would never trust her heart again. Darkness begins to creep through her veins without her noticing. It slowly spreads it's way throughout her subconscious until she no longer feels anything but a heavy blanket of indifference. Not sadness at her husband's absence, not rage at his illegitimate child, just stone cold. It seems to have settled in her bones, cut to her very core, making each day seem to drag like she's living in slow motion.

Greer, one of her last confidants, marries quickly and moves across the sea with Lord Castleroy. She finds her first joy in weeks in the birth of Kenna's first daughter, but it turns bitter quickly. They call her Diane and soon move from the castle to a château in the hills where can raise their family away from court, a place that holds such terrible memories for both of them. Mary wishes she could do the same, her years at court haunt the halls and when she finds sleep her dreams are clouded by the faces of King Henry or Count Vincent or Francis as he rode towards Lola. She no longer wakes grappling at empty sheets in search of him, rather just for some kind of saviour from the black hole that she seems to be caught in. Her rosary beads have left tiny calluses on her fingers from her constant prayer for relief.

She goes off her food and what she does eat often comes back up. Her back seems to ache constantly and blinding headaches mean she has to pass meetings with courtiers onto her advisers. When she faints whilst on a walk, she wakes on a soft bench covered in thick furs. To her shock, see's Catherine sat at her bedside.

''Catherine?'' Mary can't remember the last time the two women spoke. She tries to sit up but the old queen places a firm hand on her shoulder. ''What's going on? You have to let me go! I have duties to attend to, you must underst-''

''Mary.'' She may no longer have any power, but the older woman's voice can still silence a room with just a word. ''Lie down, there you go.'' Almost maternally, she settles Mary amongst the pillows and pulls one of the animal skins up to her shoulders. ''I have some news. I know my son should really be here to hear this but neither of us are most happy with him at the moment...''

Mary grips her lower arm, eyes wide with terror. Could her symptoms really be something serious? She was never taught much about the plague in her classes but surely...

Catherine places her hand on top of Mary's and smiles, pulling her from her panic. ''Mary, don't look so terrified! Nostradamus believes you are with child! Wonderful news, isn't it?.''

She's suddenly glad for the bed beneath her as her head begins to spin. With child? Francis' child? An heir for Scotland and France? The issue of an heir had plagued for months. Its hard to get pregnant when you and your husband aren't even talking. And Francis! That accusation, that cutting accusation that she was unable, when she was with child all along. Shocked, she begins crying and doesnt object when Catherine pulls her from her position to cradle her, as she used to when Mary was a child. She cries for Francis, for Lola and for the friend's she's lost. She cries for herself and for the cruel decisions she's made for her country. She cries for her baby but this time, they're tears of joy. Slowly, she feels a weight begin to lift off her back.

That night, Mary lies in her bed and feels the oddest sensation of warmth spread from her fingers to the tips of her toes. It twines through her veins and begins to thaw the icy shards that settle there. She hopes she has a son so she can call it Jean, for surely he will be God's gift to mend her broken heart.


End file.
